By  the  Same  Author 

Songs  from  the  Silent  Land  (Out  of  print) 

The  Soul's  Progress,  and  Other  Poems 

Yzdra  (Poetic  Drama) 


The 
Shadow    of    /Etna 


By 

Louis  V.  Ledoux 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 
"Knickerbocker   press 
1914 


COPYRIGHT,  1914 

BY 
LOUIS   V.  LEDOUX 

All  rights  reserved,  including  the  rights  of  production  and  adapta 
tion.  For  permission  to  perform  Persephone  :  A  Masque,  application 
must  be  made  to  the  author. 


Ube  ftnfcfcerbocfeer  fcress,  flew  Korfc 


So 
J.  L.  L. 


293122 


Thanks  are  due  the  Editors  of  The  Bookman, 
Century,  Forum,  Harper's  Monthly,  Poetry  Jour 
nal,  Scribner's,  and  The  Yale  Review  for  per 
mission  to  reprint  poems  in  this  volume. 


Contents 

PAGE 

PERSEPHONE:  A  MASQUE  i 

SERENADE       .         .         .         .         .         .  31 

CROSSROADS 32 

LETTERS  FROM  EGYPT      .         .         .         .33 
SEMPER  RESURGENS         .         .         .         -35 

THE  MEETING 37 

THE  GIFT 38 

THE  ALIEN 39 

SLUMBER  SONG 41 

"NuR  WER  DIE  SEHNSUCHT  KENNT"         .  43 

AT  SUNSET 44 

THE  FALCON 45 

RESURRECTION 49 

THE  END 51 

THE  UNKNOWN  BROTHERS       .         .         -     53 
vii 


PAGE 


FULFILMENT    .         .         .         .         .         -59 

OKADA  MITSU 61 

Cui  BONO? 63 

THE  ONLY  WAY 65 

DIRGE 73 

FELICITAS        ......  74 

SICILIAN  SONG 77 

A   THRENODY:   IN  MEMORY  OF  THE   DE 
STRUCTION  OF  MESSINA  BY  EARTHQUAKE  79 


viii 


Persephone 

A  Masque 


SCENE 

A  cliff  rising  abruptly  from  the  northern 
shore  of  Lake  Pergusa  in  Sicily.  A  few 
scattered  boulders  below.  From  the  top  of  the 
cliff  slopes  upward  the  field  of  Enna.  It  is 
early  spring  and  there  are  innumerable  violets 
which  give  a  bluish  tinge  to  the  hillside.  Here 
and  there  are  other  flowers]  crocus,  hyacinth, 
poppy,  flag,  roses,  and  narcissus.  In  the 
distance  on  the  east  rises  JEtna. 

On  the  top  of  the  cliff  are  seated  CYANE, 
ARETHUSA,  and  GALATEA.  PERSEPHONE 
stands  a  little  behind  them  on  the  lower  slope  of 
the  field,  looking  out  across  the  lake.  It  is 
early  morning. 


Persephone 

A  Masque 

PERSEPHONE 

Up  from  Egypt  and  the  Southland, 
See!  The  wild,  white  cranes  are  flying. 

CYANE 

In  the  air  I  hear  their  crying. 

ARETHUSA 
Hark!  Again.     And  now  more  loud. 

GALATEA 
Dark  against  the  sky  they  show. 

CYANE 
Where? 


GALATEA 

To  southward,  like  a  cloud 
Hung  between  the  sky  and  ocean. 
Swift  and  steady  is  their  motion. 

ARETHUSA 

More  like  arrows  from  a  bow. 
CYANE 

Now  I  see  them  coming  nearer. 

Are  they  stooping  toward  the  shore? 

PERSEPHONE 

O  wild,  white  cranes,  come  down  to  me ! 
ARETHUSA 

Now  their  cries  are  ringing  clearer. 
See!  A  downward  course  they  take. 

GALATEA 
There  against  the  sun  are  more. 

6 


CYANE  (to  PERSEPHONE) 

Now  so  low  the  first  are  flying, 
I  can  see  their  shadow  lying 
Dark  and  wedge-like  on  the  lake. 

ARETHUSA  (to  PERSEPHONE) 
They  have  settled  just  below. 

PERSEPHONE  (singing) 

Heart  of  a  bird!   Heart  of  a  bird ! 

O  the  wild,  white  cranes  are  free; 
But  the  heart  of  man  is  the  song  unheard 

That  the  sea-winds  sing  to  the  sea. 

Heart  of  a  bird !     Heart  of  a  bird ! 

O  wild,  white  cranes  that  fly 
Over  all  the  lands  that  the  oceans  gird, 

What  have  you  more  than  I? 

What  have  you  more  than  I  have  had 
From  the  winds  and  the  sun  and  the  sea? 

Is  the  heart  of  a  bird  like  a  man's  heart  sad 
And  crying  ceaselessly? 


GALATEA 

Did  Hecate  see  you  as  you  slept  last  night, 
And  weave  the  yellow  moonbeams  round  your 

heart, 

Or  Aphrodite  from  her  Eastern  isle 
Send  out  some  scarlet-vestured  dream  that 

leaves 
This  cry  of  human  longing  on  your  lips? 

PERSEPHONE 

I  know  not  why  it  is  my  clouded  mind 
The  gold  of  such  a  sunrise  turns  to  gray. 
The  song,  I  heard  a  fisher-maiden  sing 
One  bird-thrilled  dawn,  when  here  alone  I  sat, 
And  back  of  Mtna.  shone  the  coming  rose. 
Beneath  me  spread  a  sea  of  moving  mist 
Whose  silver  bosom  softly  rose  and  fell 
In  rhythmic  undulation  of  slow  waves 
That  soundless  broke  upon  the  cliff  below. 
There  white  it  lay  and  palely  luminous, 
A  sea  that  had  no  cadenced  undertone; 


And  as  I  watched  its  gleaming  billows  roll, 
And  thought  how  all  beneath  was  gray  and 

chill, 

My  heart  was  troubled  by  a  song  that  rose 
From  where  the  shrouded  lake  in  darkness 

lay: 

The  fisher-maiden  sang,  and  I  went  down; 
But  when  I  asked,  she  knew  not  what  it 

meant, 

Or  could  not  put  in  words  the  thing  she  knew; 
And  I  came  back,  but  ^Etna's  rose  was  gone. 

GALATEA 

A  tale  I  heard  that  men  are  cursed  with  souls ; 
But  what  souls  are  I  know  not. 

ARETHUSA 

I  have  heard 

The  soul  is  hunger  ever  unappeased, 
And    thirst    by    all    earth's    fountains    un- 
assuaged. 


PERSEPHONE 

The  soul  is  darkness  waiting  for  the  dawn, 
And,  if  dawn  comes,  is  day  that  longs  for 

dusk; 

And  not  to  men  as  to  the  soulless  beasts 
Is  death  a  sudden  stranger. 

CYANE 

Close  beside, 
With  following  footfalls  through  the  crisped 

leaves 
That    edge   their   pathway   rustling,    death 

unseen, 
A    dread    companion,    waits    his    destined 

hour; 

And  now  upon  a  turning  shoulder  breathes, 
And  now,   an    obscure    shadow,    dims    the 

day. 

GALATEA 

The  cranes  rise  up  again. 

IO 


PERSEPHONE 

Spring's  harbingers. 

Now  where  they  pass  will  green  come  steal 
ing  up 

Expectant  valleys  where  the  brown  brooks 
run, 

And  dot  with  scattered  tufts  the  meadow- 
lands. 

ARETHUSA 

They  fly  the  Pygmies'  war. 
CYANE 

It  is  the  hour 
When  we  are  wont  to  sing   our  hymn  to 

her 
Who   leads   despondent   Summer   from  the 

South 
To    beauty's    bright    renewal — blade    and 

bud. 

ii 


GALATEA  and  ARETHUSA 

Weave  we  now  the  sacred  dances; 

Praise  we  now  Demeter's  name; 
Bright  the  dew-starred  cobweb  glances, 

On  the  altar  leaps  the  flame. 

CYANE  and  PERSEPHONE 

In  the  mystic  measure  swaying, 

Great  Demeter  we  entreat : 
Mother  hear  thy  children  praying ! 

Bring  the  barley,  bring  the  wheat. 


12 


ALL  (Hymn  to  Demeter) 

Weave  the  dance,  and  raise  again  the  sacred 

chorus ; 
Wreathe  the  garlands  of  the  spring  about 

the  hair; 
Now  once  more  the  meadows  burst  in  bloom 

before  us, 
Crying  swallows  dart  and  glitter  through 

the  air. 

Glints  the  plowshare  in  the  brown  and  fra 
grant  furrow; 
Pigeons   coo   in   shady   coverts    as    they 

pair; 
Come  the  furtive  mountain  folk  from  cave 

and  burrow, 

Lean,    and    blinking    at    the    sunlight's 
sudden  glare. 


Bright  through  midmost  heaven  moves  the 

lesser  Lion; 

Hide  the  Hyades  in  ocean  caverns  hoar; 
Past  the    shoulders    of    the    sunset    flames 

Orion, 

Following  the  Sisters  seaward  evermore. 
Gleams  the  east  at  evening,  lit  by  low  Arc- 

turus; 
Out  to  subtle-scented  dawns  beside  the 

shore, 

Yet  a  little  and  the  Pleiades  will  lure  us : 
Weave  the  dance  and  raise  the  chorus  as  of 
yore. 


Far  to  eastward  up  the  fabled  gulf  of  Issus, 
Northward,  southward,  westward,  now  the 

trader  goes, 
Passing    headlands    clustered    yellow    with 

narcissus, 
Bright  with  hyacinth,  with  poppy,  and  with 

rose. 

Shines  the  sea  and  falls  the  billow  as  un 
daunted, 
Past  the  rising  of  the  stars  that  no  man 

knows, 

Sails  he  onward  through  the  islands  siren- 
haunted, 

Till  the  clashing  gates  of  rock  before  him 
close. 


Kindly  Mother  of  the  beasts  and  birds  and 

flowers, 
Gracious  bringer  of  the  barley  and  the 

grain, 
Earth  awakened  feels  thy  sunlight  and  thy 

showers ; 
Great  Demeter!  Let  us  call  thee  not  in 

vain. 
Lead  us  safely  from  the  seed-time  to  the 

threshing, 
Past  the  harvest  and  the  vineyard's  purple 

stain ; 
Let  us  see  thy  corn-pale  hair  the  sunlight 

meshing, 

When  the  sounding  flails  of  autumn  swing 
again. 


16 


GALATEA 

Where  is  thy  mother  now,  Persephone? 
PERSEPHONE 

I  felt  her  stoop  to  kiss  me  as  I  slept, 

And  looking,  saw  the  East's  primeval  calm. 

CYANE 

Before  the  dawn  had  showed  its  first  gray 

gleam, 
Ere  yet   the  earliest  bird  some  snatch  of 

song 

Or  half -forgotten  cadence  heard  in  sleep, 
Had   warbled  waking,   she  had   yoked  her 

car 

And  fared  far  out  across  the  starlit  foam 
Whose  silver  blossoms  close  not  with  the 

night, 
Bearing   the   earth-brown   mortals   gifts   of 

spring. 

17 


PERSEPHONE 

She  gives  her  golden  store  to  all  the  lands 
That  Ocean  laps  within  his  slumbrous  folds, 
And  strange  it  is  to  think  that  far  from  here 
The  darker  folk  of  Nilus  and  the  South, 
Yea,  all  that  dwell  beyond  the  ocean  haze, 
Look  up  from  toil  to  give  Demeter  thanks, 
While  on   them,   down  the  almond-vistaed 

spring 

Steal  recollections  faint  of  what  they  were 
Before  the  soul  had  sapped  their  strength  away 
And  set  them  groping  darkly  through  the 

earth 
For  things  that  are  not,  and  can  never  be. 

CYANE 

Their  ashen  hearts  remembrance  kindles  now, 
And  long-forgotten  moods  and  motions  bud 
In  barren  breasts  to  burst  in  rose  and  gold, 
Petal  by  petal  opened,  making  dim 
The  dun,  habitual  aspects  of  the  world. 

18 


ARETHUSA 

Apollo  mounts,  and  still  we  loiter  here, 
Leaving  Demeter's  altar  unadorned. 
The  flowers  will  lose  their  early  loveliness 
If   long   they   gaze   on   him,  and   soon   his 

beams 
Will  drink  the  freshness  from  each  veined 

cup, 
For  dewdrops,  like  to  swans,  just  ere  they 

pass 
Attain  their  height  of  beauty. 

GALATEA 

Now  they  gleam 

Most  like  the  foam-stars  on  the  veil  of  light 
That  wrapped  the  Paphian  when  at  first  she 

shone 

Within  her  curved  shell,  and  round  about, 
Amazed  Ocean  trembled,  shimmering. 

(They  move  about  gathering  the  flowers.) 
19 


CYANE 

What  wealth  of  violets!    About  me  here 
They   cluster   thick   as    on    the    broidered 

veils 

The  sailors  gain  in  barter  over  seas. 
I  know  not  which  to  pick,  the  blue  or  pied. 
The  sturdy  yellow  or  these  dainty  white. 

ARETHUSA 

I  pick  the  crocus,  Smilax'  gentle  friend, 

For  Crocus  died  of  unrequited  love, 

So  legends  tell,  and  when  beside  my  heart 

I  lay  his  tender  blossom,  oft  I  think 

If  one  loved  me  so  well  he  should  not  die. 

GALATEA 

If  one  loved  me,  I'd  play  him  many  pranks 
And  tease  him  till  his  love  he  did  deny — 
But  love  the  more — and  from  the  waves  I'd 

laugh 
To  see  him  pace  the  shore  disconsolate. 

20 


ARETHUSA 

I  know  not  what  it  is  that  I  would  do : 
I  could  not  choose  but  pity,  yet  would  fear 
To  loose  my  maiden  zone  and  so  to  lose 
This  rippling  girlhood. 

GALATEA 

You  would  run  or  hide, 

With  tears  and  laughter  mingled,  babbling 
still. 

CYANE 

I  would  not  wish  for  Aphrodite's  flame, 
Or  change  the  love  I  know  for  love  unknown ; 
This  cool,  sweet  converse  on  the  morning  hills, 
The  linked  roamings  with  Persephone 
Suffice  my  need  of  loving,  nor  would  I, 
For  other  love,  one  petal  pluck  from  this. 

PERSEPHONE 

I  wonder  will  the  seeds  of  Fate  unfold 
For  good  or  ill.     So  happy  are  we  now. 

21 


(CYANE,  one  arm  laden  with  flowers,  goes  over, 

puts  her  other  arm  about  PERSEPHONE, 

and  kisses  her.) 

CYANE 

Surely  we  shall  be  ever  as  we  are. 
PERSEPHONE 

Ah  no !    Not  Zeus  himself  can  hold  the  spring, 
For  in  the  bud  is  autumn's  withered  leaf. 

(She  moves  slowly  up  the  hillside,  away  from 

the  others,  gathering  flowers 

as  she  goes.) 

GALATEA 

The  ever  mournful  hyacinth  I  pluck, 
Yet  not  because  its  petals  tell  of  pain, 
But  for  the  head  with  tightly  clustered  curls, 
The  noble  discus  player  in  his  strength, 
Whose   stalwart  beauty  wrought   his   over 
throw. 

22 


CYANE  (after  a  pause) 

Go  not  too  far  up  field,  Persephone, 
Demeter    bade    us    watch    you,    lest    you 

stray 
And  some  swift  harm  befall. 

PERSEPHONE 

Fear  not  for  me; 

I  gather  rose  and  lily,  poppies  too, 
And     there     ahead    the    bright    narcissus 

shines. 
No    danger     lurks     within     this     field     of 

flowers, 
The    gliding    emerald    snakes    I    oft    have 

touched, 
And  naught  else  is  there  save  the  sky  and 

you, 
The  lake,  and   far-off   ^Etna  crowned  with 

snow. 


ARETHUSA  (singing) 

High  on  her  mountain  throne, 
Ever  aloof,  alone, 
(Clouds  are  her  maiden  zone) 
^Etna  the  white  doth  sit, 
Hearing  the  Titans  groan 
Chained  in  their  sunless  pit, 
Whence  to  the  earth  are  blown, 
Thwarting  Demeter's  plan, 
Flames  by  Hephaestus  lit. 

White  on  her  mountain  throne, 
Ever  aloof,  alone, 
(Clouds  are  her  maiden  zone) 
Silent  doth  ^Etna  sit, 
Watching  the  doubtful  strife 
Waged  since  the  world  began : 
Parched  are  the  springs  of  life, 
Earth  with  the  seed  is  rife; 
Poised  are  the  fates  of  man. 

24 


(PERSEPHONE  has  gone  far  up  the  field  and  is 
now  on  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  about  to  pass 
out  of  sight.) 

CYANE  (calling) 
Persephone ! 

PERSEPHONE 

Just  here  below  I  see 
Narcissus  with  a  hundred  golden  flowers, 
A  wondrous  bloom. 

CYANE 

A  moment,  and  I  come. 

(PERSEPHONE  disappears  over  the  edge  of 
the  hill.) 

ARETHUSA  (after  a  pause) 

A  sudden  darkness  falls! 
25 


GALATEA 

A  strange  green  light 

As  sometimes  at  the  sunset  wraps  the  sea 
When  heavy  storm-clouds  hang  within  the 
west. 

ARETHUSA 

I  hear  a  distant  rumbling  as  of  thunder, 
And  look,  the  flowers  are  trembling  on  their 
stalks! 

GALATEA 
Now  comes  it  nearer! 

ARETHUSA 

Help!    I  cannot  stand. 
The  earth  heaves  up  and  sways  beneath  my 
feet. 

(A  loud  roaring  and  rending  sound  is  heard; 
the  ground  trembles  as  in  an  earthquake,  and 
the  darkness  grows  swiftly  deeper.  ARETHUSA 

and  GALATEA  fall  prone.) 
26 


CYANE  (on  the  edge  of  the  hill) 

Where  art  them?    Quick!    The  great  earth 

heaves  and  rends; 

I  hear  a  trampling  as  of  thunder  steeds, 
And    see    a    blackness    shot    with    moving 

flames ; 
But  where  thou  art,  I  see  not.     Quick!    To 

me! 
Persephone ! 

VOICE  OF  AIDES 
Nay,  to  me! 

PERSEPHONE 
Ai!    Ai! 

CYANE 

God !    Aides !    Spare  her ! 
27 


(On  the  edge  of  the  hill  is  seen  for  a  moment, 
obscurely  through  the  darkness,  a  golden  chariot 
drawn  by  wild  black  horses;  the  wheels  are  like 
revolving  yellow  flames.  In  the  car  stands 
AIDES,  black  bearded  and  dressed  all  in  black 
with  a  golden  crown.  He  has  one  arm  about 
PERSEPHONE,  crushing  her  flowers  against  him, 
and  with  the  other  he  guides  the  plunging 
horses.  CYANE  flings  herself  at  the  head  of  the 
nearer  horse,  trying  to  clutch  his  mane  and 
nostrils,  but  misses  her  hold  and  falls  beneath 
the  car.  There  is  another  loud  roar  as  of 
thunder.) 


Miscellaneous   Poems 


Serenade 

(~)UT  of  the  dusky  midnight, 

Over  the  silver  dew, 
A  spirit  came 
With  a  heart  of  flame, 
Singing  of  you,  of  you. 

Dawn  rose  over  the  mountains, 
Gold  on  the  farthest  height ; 
And  the  robins  sang 
Till  the  wildwood  rang 
Only  of  Love's  delight. 

Midnight  and  dawn  and  sunset, 
Rose  of  the  East  and  West, 
Again  I  wait 
At  your  garden-gate, 
And  the  thorn  is  in  my  breast. 
31 


Crossroads 

(The  Woman  Speaks) 

TT  may  be  we  adventurers 

Together  may  not  venture  far; 
For  you  the  solitary  North, 
For  me  my  star; 

For  you,  till  twilight  brings  you  home, 
The  glow  of  youth,  the  forest  track; 

For  me  the  love  that  will  not  yield 
And  call  you  back. 


Letters  from  Egypt 

TV/TEMPHIS  and  Karnak,  Luxor,  Thebes, 

the  Nile: 

Of  these  your  letters  told ;  and  I  who  read, 
Saw  loom  on  dim  horizons,  Egypt's  dead 
In  march  across  the  desert,  mile  on  mile, 
A  ghostly  caravan  in  slow  defile 
Between  the  sand  and  stars ;  and  at  their  head 
From  unmapped  darkness  into  darkness  fled 
The  gods  that  Egypt  feared  a  little  while. 

3  33 


There  black  against  the  night  I  saw  them  loom, 
With  captive  kings  and  armies  in  array 
Remembered  only  by  their  sculptured  doom; 
And  thought :  What  Egypt  was  are  we  to-day. 
Then  rose  obscure  against  the  rearward  gloom 
The  march  of  empires  yet  to  pass  away. 


34 


Semper  Resurgens 

"VTOT  only  over  Deles'  steep, 

From  green  Dodona  and  the  cliffs 
Where  Lesbian  maidens  came  to  weep 
The  unreturning  fisher-skiffs; 

And  not  alone  from  poets'  pages, 
Across  our  unexpecting  skies — 

A  meteor  from  the  golden  ages — 
Does  Beauty  flash  upon  our  eyes. 


No  paladin  or  paramour 

In  Joyeuse  Garde  or  Celedon, 

Not  Roncesval  nor  Agincourt, 
Nor  Islam  crushed  at  Ascalon ; 
35 


Nor  yet  the  wintry  world  returning 
From  barren  questing  of  the  Grail, 

To  find  the  rose  of  passion  burning, 
And  spring  reborn  in  Arno's  vale, 

Has  bound  Romance  in  golden  bands 
So  closely  set  that  now  her  light 

Can  shine  alone  from  storied  lands 
And  fields  of  famed,  chivalric  fight. 

Whene'er  the  magic  word  is  spoken, 
When  moonlit  ripples  move  the  mere, 

Anew  she  comes,  her  bondage  broken ; 
And  still  anew  the  vision  clear 

Of  Beauty  gleams  on  souls  that,  seeing, 
Forget  how  darkly  day  by  day, 

We  whirl  within  the  wheels  of  being, 
Or  plod  the  mill-round's  dusty  way. 


The  Meeting 


" 


must  not  look  at  me  so; 
And  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"  Beauty  is  gone,  I  know, 

And  youth  with  the  vanished  years.  " 

But  I  saw  only  the  girl; 

And  all  that  had  come  between 
Whirled  off  as  the  dead  leaves  whirl 

When  April's  face  is  seen  ; 

For  the  dream  I  dreamt  of  old 
Had  kept  her  youth  secure  — 

The  eyes,  and  the  hair  of  gold  — 
And  dreams  unchanged  endure. 


37 


The  Gift 

T   ET  others  give  you  wealth  and  love, 

And  guard  you  while  you  live ; 
I  cannot  set  my  gift  above 
The  gifts  that  others  give; 

And  yet  the  gift  I  give  is  good : 

In  one  man's  eyes  to  see 
The  worship  of  your  maidenhood, 

While  children  climb  your  knee. 


The  Alien 

aisles  of  verdure  glow  the 
cardinal  flowers, 

Like  rubies  set  in  carven  screens  of  jade; 

In  forest  twilight  sleep  the  ferns  un 
swayed, 

And  silent  as  in  Ocean's  windless  bowers, 

Move  softly  on  the  slow  and  timeless 
hours 

Through  gradual  changes  lulled  in  cool,  green 
shade : 

It  is  as  though  some  wise  enchantment 
laid 

The  spell  of  calm  on  earth's  unresting 
powers. 

39 


And  I  amid  this  peace  and  silence  stand 
Like  one  that  fell  returned  to  Paradise, 
Who  craves  the  calm  of  that  remembered 

land, 
But   looks  thereon  with   strange,  regretful 

eyes; 

And  knows  himself  an  exile,  trebly  banned, 
An  alien  under  once  familiar  skies. 


40 


Slumber  Song 

"T\ROWSILY  come  the  sheep 

From  the  place  where  the  pastures  be, 
By  a  dusty  lane 
To  the  fold  again, 
First  one,  and  then  two,  and  three: 

First  one,  then  two,  by  the  paths  of  sleep 
Drowsily  come  the  sheep. 

Drowsily  come  the  sheep, 
And  the  shepherd  is  singing  low : 
After  eight  comes  nine 
In  the  endless  line, 
They  come,  and  then  in  they  go. 

First  eight,  then  nine,  by  the  paths  of  sleep 
Drowsily  come  the  sheep. 
41 


Drowsily  come  the  sheep 
And  they  pass  through  the  sheepfold  door; 
After  one  comes  two, 
After  one  comes  two, 
Comes  two,  and  then  three  and  four. 

First  one,  then  two,  by  the  paths  of  sleep, 
Drowsily  come  the  sheep. 


42 


"  Nur  wer  die  Sehnsucht  kennt . . 

T  KNOW  in  twilight,  as  of  old, 

The  western  hills  are  purple-blue; 
I  know  my  arching  casements  hold 
Serene,  familiar  things  in  view — 

The  crescent  moon,  the  cedar  trees, 
A  star  in  sunset's  fading  red — 

But  know  not  who  hath  joy  of  these 
Since  I  was  numbered  with  the  dead. 


At  Sunset 

her  and  hold  her  and  love  her, 
Here  in  the  arching  green 
Of  boughs  that  bend  above  her 
With  belts  of  blue  between. 

Clasp  her  and  hold  her  and  love  her, 
Swift !  Ere  the  splendor  dies ; 

The  blue  grows  black  above  her, 
The  earth  in  shadow  lies. 

Flowers  of  dream  enfold  her. 

Soft !  Let  me  bend  above, 
Clasp  her  and  love  her  and  hold  her, 

Clasp  her  and  hold  and  love. 


44 


The  Falcon 

"He  was  hooded  and  leashed  by  that  most 
bright  lady,  and  his  soul  wore  the  golden  brail 
of  the  world,  and  the  fire  died  within  him;  but 
he  went  ever  with  a  sad  countenance  like  one 
who  had  lost  what  he  most  prized" 

A    MERLIN  rides  on  my  Lady's  wrist; 

With  a  fetter  of  silk  his  foot  is  wound 
And  a  broidered  hood    on    his    head    is 
bound 

With  a  girdle  of  gold  and  amethyst. 

» 

Proudly  paces  her  palfrey  there, 

For  my  Lady  rides  to  the  hunt  to-day 
And  cavaliers  in  a  long  array 

Follow  the  falcon  and  lady  fair. 
45 


Under  the  arching  boughs  they  ride, 

With  gleam  of  damask  and  glint  of  sword, 
And  the  hoofs  beat   dull   on   the   grassy 
sward — 

But  one  spurs  up  to  the  lady's  side: 

"  Tis  sweet  to  gallop  by  glade  and  wold 
When  April's  alchemy  has  blent 
Of  every  vernal  sound  and  scent 

A  wine  of  magic  manifold. 

"  Yea,  youth  is  sweet,  and  horse  and  friend, 
And  every  sense  drinks  in  the  morn, 
Yet  well  I  would  of  all  be  shorn, 
So  might  I  win  the  bliss  to  wend 

"As  yonder  falcon  bound  and  blind, 
And  make  forevermore  my  stand 
The  matchless  lily  of  your  hand, 

And  feel  your  brail  and  jesses  bind. " 
46 


And  answers  she:  "Sweet  words,  Sir  Knight, 
But  noble  wings  were  made  to  soar 
Up  where  the  yellow  sunbeams  pour 

On  glossy  plumes  their  living  light; 

"And  birds  that  climb  to  the  circling  sun, 
And  starlike  drop  en  their  gleaming  way, 
Are  ill-content  with  a  leash's  play; 
But  I  wait,  Sir  Knight,  till  your  speech  be 
done." 

So  ride  they  on  while  the  sun  grows  hot, 
The  shadows  shorten,  the  south  wind  dies, 
But  at  never  a  quarry  the  falcon  flies 

For  the  lady  listens  and  heeds  him  not. 

Then  gallop  they  back  by  bough  and  brere, 
The  lady  with  mind  and  heart  intent 
On  the  tale  of  courtly  compliment 

And  the  voice  that  sings  to  her  charmed  ear, 
47 


Till  they  come  at  dusk  to  the  gray-walled 
town, 

The  sunset  splendor  on  spur  and  blade; 

And  lepers  slink  to  a  place  of  shade 
As  the  clanking  drawbridge  staggers  down. 

The  hall  is  lit  and  the  lutes  resound ; 

But  the  bird  at  his  block  on  the  castle  lawn, 
With  wings  that  droop  and  forget  the  dawn, 

Is  a  poet's  soul  that  the  world  hath  bound. 


48 


Resurrection 

"D  ACK  from  the  misty  valleys 

And  lowlands  drifting  gloom, 
Up  through  the  laurelled  alleys, 
Lured  by  the  laurel's  bloom; 

Up  where  the  pines  are  clinging, 
Up  to  the  mountain  crest 

I  come,  and  the  soul  is  singing 
Waked  in  the  songless  breast. 

Close  to  the  earth  I  press  me, 
Stretched  on  the  topmost  peak ; 

Winds  of  the  south  caress  me, 
The  rock  is  warm  to  my  cheek : 

4  49 


Stirred  by  earth's  primal  urges, 
Roused  by  the  summer's  breath, 

From  death-cold  dark  resurges 
The  dream  that  saves  from  death. 


The  End 

V\7TTHOUT  the  midnight  forest  moans 
and  heaves ; 

I  lay  my  head  where  oft  her  head  has  lain. 
Against  my  windows  whirl  the  autumn  leaves, 

And  on  the  roof  I  hear  the  winter  rain. 


The  Unknown  Brothers 

After  Reading  the  Greek  Anthology 


53 


The  Unknown  Brothers 

CINGING  band  by  song  united 
When  the  blue  ^Egean  plains 
Girdled  isles  where  lovers  lighted 

Lamps  in  Kypris'  seaward  fanes; 
Singing  Brothers,  earth  enf olden, 
What  of  you  and  of  your  olden 

Music  now?     What  still  remains? 

Scattered  blooms,  surviving  only 

As  the  petal  holds  the  rose, 
In  the  garden  where  the  lonely 

Scarlet  flower  of  Sappho  blows ; 
And  of  some  no  single  token — 
Leaf  or  bud,  or  blossom  broken — 

Now  the  mounded  garden  shows. 
55 


Was  there  lack  of  exaltation 
In  the  burden  of  their  song? 

Had  they  less  of  consecration? 
Proved  the  path  of  Beauty  long? 

Did  they  pause  for  pleasant  resting? 

Swerve  or  falter  in  their  questing? 
Have  the  ages  done  them  wrong? 

Some  there  may  have  been  who  faltered 

By  the  bright  ^Egean  foam, 
Seeing  life  with  vision  altered 

As  the  soul  forgot  its  home; 
Some  it  may  be  in  confusion, 
After  youth's  divine  illusion, 

Turned  to  till  the  kindly  loam. 

Some  there  are  in  all  the  ages 

Lonely  vigil  fail  to  keep; 
Some  allured  by  wisdom's  pages 

Chart  the  sky  and  sound  the  deep ; 
Some  give  up  the  long  foregoing — 
Human  touches,  reaping,  sowing — 

Some  with  Sappho  take  the  leap. 
56 


But  the  most  wait  unrepining, 
Hopeful  when  all  hope  is  fled, 

For  fulfilment  of  the  shining 
Dawn  that  lingers  far  ahead, 

And,  by  paths  of  no  returning 

Where  the  hearth-fires  are  not  burning, 
March  companioned  by  the  dead. 

Through  neglect  or  loud  derision, 
Mocked  at  by  the  worldly-wise, 

Bearing  burdens  of  misprision, 
Seeking  truth  and  finding  lies, 

Follow  they  the  glow  or  glimmer 

Of  the  vision  growing  dimmer 
As  the  death-mist  fills  their  eyes. 

Never  can  you  be  requited, 

Unknown  Brothers,  staunch  and  brave; 
You  the  bitter  gods  have  slighted, 

Only  half  their  gift  they  gave, 
Gave  the  patience  of  endeavor, 
Kept  fruition  back  forever, 

Felled  the  cypress  by  your  grave. 

57 


You  are  passed ;  but  unknown  brothers, 
Finding  faith  of  small  avail, 

Follow  now  as  followed  others, 
And  I  pause  to  bid  them  hail. 

Brothers  are  they  in  believing, 

Some  it  may  be  are  achieving, 

But  they  triumph  though  they  fail. 


Fulfilment 

HAPPY;  yea  happy  forever  and  aye! 

I  Scarlet  bursts  through  the  eastern  gray 

And  the  night  is  past ; 
For  a  woman's  lips  and  a  woman's  hair, 
And  the  soul  of  her  womanhood,  wonderful, 

fair, 
Are  mine  at  last. 

Dawn  was  near  but  no  whisper  told 
Why  the  stars  went  out  and  the  world  grew 
cold 

As  the  void  above; 

When  suddenly  out  of  the  darkness  sprang 
My  passionate  rose,  and  the  whole  world  sang 

Of  love,  of  love. 

59 


Now  happy,  yea  happy  forever  I  stand, 
The  rose  of  passion  within  my  hand ; 

And  the  day  may  close 
With  the  dust  of  worlds  on  the  midnight 

strown 
For  I  hold  forever,  forever  my  own 

The  passionate  rose. 


60 


Okada  Mitsu 

(To  E.  A.  R.) 

11TE  cooks,  he  waits,  he  presses  trousers 

well, 

He  cleans  the  windows  and  he  serves  the  tea ; 
And  what  behind  his  mask  the  man  may  be 
Remains  with  things  that  are  inscrutable. 
I  know  he  answers  when  I  ring  the  bell 
And  once  a  week  he  has  an  evening  free : 
So  much  is  clear;  but  what  he  thinks  of  me 
No  prince  of  physiognomists  could  tell. 

61 


He  looks  beyond  me  when  he  serves  the  soup, 

And  has  a  kind  of  humor  in  his  eye. 

At  times  I  almost  dread  Okada  Mitsu; 

And  once,  when  talking  to  a  friendly  group 

Of  Hiroshige  and  of  Hokusai, 

I  wondered  if  the  creature  knew  jiu-jitsu. 


62 


Cui  Bono? 

is  the  worth  of  singing? 
To  what  shall  I  liken  song? 
A  bird  through  the  sunset  winging; 
And  the  night  is  dark  and  long. 

Agleam  are  the  golden  pinions, 
Glimpsed  ere  the  sunset  fade, 

Then  lost  in  the  dark  dominions 
Of  the  slowly  folding  shade 

What  is  the  worth  of  singing? 

Can  I  lighten  the  wide  world-wrong 
With  a  leaf  on  the  night  wind  winging, 

Or  the  sunset  gleam  of  song? 


The  Only  Way 

What  is  to  be  the  salvation  of  our  Government 
and  of  our  laws  and  how  is  it  to  be  effected? 
Look  to  one  thing  only;  and  this,  virtue. 
Wisdom  and  justice  and  courage  and  temper 
ance  and  holiness — all  these  qualities  are  parts 
of  virtue. — Plato. 


The  Only  Way 
I 

T  LOOKED  in  vision  down  the  centuries 

And  saw  how  Athens  stood  a  sunlit  while, 
A  sovereign  city  free  from  greed  and  guile, 
The  half-embodied  dream  of  Pericles. 
Then  saw  I  one  of  smooth  words,  swift  to  please, 
At  laggard  virtue  mock  with  shrug  and  smile ; 
With  Cleon's  creed  rang  court  and  peristyle, 
Then  sank  the  sun  in  far  Sicilian  seas. 
67 


From  brows  ignoble  fell  the  violet  crown. 
Again  the  warning  sounds ;  the  hosts  engage : 
In  Cleon's  face  we  fling  our  battle  gage, 
We  win,  as  foes  of  Cleon,  loud  renown ; 
But  while  we  think  to  build  the  coming  age, 
The  laurel  on  our  brows  is  turning  brown. 


68 


II 

top  the  poisonous  blooms  that  choke 
the  State, 
At  flower  and  fruit  our  flashing  strokes  are 

made, 
The  whetted  scythe  on  stalk  and  stem  is 

laid, 

But  deeper  must  we  strike  to  extirpate 
The  rooted  evil  that  within  our  gate 
Will  sprout  again  and  flourish,  branch  and 

blade ; 
For  only  from  within  can  ill  be  stayed 

While  Adam's  seed  is  unregenerate. 
69 


With   zeal   redoubled   let   our   strength   be 

strained 

To  cut  the  rooted  causes  where  they  hold, 
Nor  spend  our  sinews  digging  fungus  mold 
With  all  the  breeding  marshes  left  undrained. 
Be  this  our  aim ;  and  let  our  youth  be  trained 
To  honor  virtue  more  than  place  and  gold. 


70 


Ill 

A   HUNDRED  cities  sapped  by  slow  decay, 
A  hundred  codes  and  systems  proven 
vain 

Lie  hearsed  in  sand  upon  the  heaving  plain, 
Memorial  ruins  mounded,  still  and  gray; 
And  we  who  plod  the  barren  waste  to-day 
Another  code  evolving,  think  to  gain 
Surcease  of  man's  inheritance  of  pain 

And  mold  a  State  immune  from  evil's  sway. 
71 


Not  laws ;  but  virtue  in  the  soul  we  need, 
The  old  Socratic  justice  in  the  heart, 
The  golden  rule  become  the  people's  creed 
When  years  of  training  have  performed  their 
part;  \ 

For  thus  alone  in  home  and  church  and  mart 
Can  evil  perish  and  the  race  be  freed. 


Dirge 


T  TNDER  the  laurel  sleeping 

White  is  her  woodland  pall, 
Dead  in  the  laurel's  keeping 

She  whom  the  thrushes  call. 
Winds  of  the  south  are  weeping ; 

Softly  the  blossoms  fall. 

Idly  the  laurel  bloweth, 

Idly  the  thrushes  long, 
She  whom  the  woodland  knoweth, 

(Death,  did  she  do  thee  wrong?) 
Brief  in  the  laurel  gloweth, 

Fades  in  the  bloom  of  song. 


73 


Felicitas 

From  the  Italian  of  Mario  Rapisardi 

T-TIGH  on  a  granite  headland, 

Where  endless  surges  beat, 
The  white,  impassible  goddess 
Sits  throned  on  a  gleaming  seat. 

Over  the  ocean  hanging 
The  sky  is  a  vault  of  lead ; 

Like  lava  boil  the  waters 

And  far  their  roarings  spread. 

The  awful  night  and  solemn 

By  no  new  star  is  rent ; 
In  darkness  forever  and  ever 

The  voices  of  life  lament. 
74 


The  ocean  cries  in  resurging 
To  the  cliff  that  above  it  rears : 

'  I  nourish  myself  forever 

With  human  blood  and  tears. " 

And  the  wind  round  the  goddess  whirling 

Breaks  in  with  its  ancient  cry : 
'I  am  the  wail  of  the  people, 

Of  the  ages  I  am  the  sigh. " 

And  all  that  is  breathing  and  loving, 
From   the    sky,   and    the    sea,  and    the 
ground 

With  the  voice  of  lament  is  crying, 
Lost  in  the  night  profound: 

'Wilt  thou  look  from  thy  mount,  O  Goddess, 

On  the  wrecked  forevermore? 
Shall  no  one,  no  one  forever, 
Be  able  to  touch  thy  shore?" 
75 


If  thou  art  a  vain  illusion, 
A  shape  of  a  dream's  impress, 

Why  more  than  all  do  I  crave  thee? 
Why  more  than  truth  dost  thou  bless? 

O  thou  who  above  me  art  gleaming, 
O  sphinx  of  no  answering  breath, 

O  white,  impassible  Goddess, 
Art  thou,  O,  art  thou  death? 


Sicilian   Song 

O  OAR  of  the  prisoned  thunder, 

Ringed  by  an  iron  range; 
Flash  of  the  levin  wonder 

Bright  on  the  upland  grange; 
Over  the  earth  and  under 

Worketh  the  will  of  Change. 

Terror  of  gods  infernal 
Spouting  the  nether  fire ; 

Terror  of  gods  supernal 
Smiting  the  Earth's  desire; 

Terror  and  storm  eternal 
Conquer  the  cup  and  lyre. 


77 


A  Threnody 

In  Memory  of  the  Destruction  of  Messina 
by  Earthquake 


79 


A  Threnody 

CICILIAN    Muse!     O    thou    who    sittest 

dumb 

Amid  the  sodden  fields  and  ways  forlorn, 
Where  once  the  herdsmen  singing,  watched 

their  kine 
Breast-deep  in  fragrance,  odorous  eve  and 

morn; 

Stranger  to  thee,  yet  led  by  love  I  come, 
A  suppliant  sable-stoled,  to  mix  with  thine 
My  tears,  and  at  thy  shrine 
Kindle  a  funeral  torch  for  Sicily: 
Give  not  the  suppliant's  prayer  the  meed  of 

blame ! 
Scorn  not  the  stranger's  proffered  oil  and 


wine! 


81 


0  thou  from  whom  the  heavenly  madness 

came, 
When  Orpheus  hymning  struck  his  golden 

lute, 

And  stirred  old  memories  in  Persephone, 
While  all  the  lonely  shades  in  hell  stood  mute 
To  watch  the  still-beloved  Eurydice 
Borne  lightly  upward  on  the  silver  surge 
To  Enna's  flowery  verge; 
Spirit  august!     Child  of  Mnemosyne! 
With  reverence  and  true  humility 

1  break  before  thy  feet  my  careless  flute, 
And  wait  upon  my  lips  thy  touch  of  flame: 
Begin,  Sicilian  Muse!     Begin  the  dirge! 

O  race  unmindful  of  the  Destinies! 
The  dread  Eumenides 

Or  Mcerae  old,  sent  from  earth's  inmost  core 
A  tremor,  warning  blindly  ye  who,  blind, 
See  not  the  sleepless  doom  that  evermore 

Has  watched  your  tragic  shore 

82 


Since  lost  sea-rovers  shaded  first  their  eyes 
To  spy  the  riches  of  your  waving  store, 
And  grated  up  your  sands  with  doubtful  keel. 
The  startled  jungle  growled  above  its  young ; 
The  Arctic  foxes  snuffed  the  scentless  wind; 
But  ye  who  knew  yourselves  a  fated  race, 
That   gods   have   loved   and   gods   to   hate 

exposed, 
Though  black  the  death-clouds  over  ^Etna 

hung, 

Forgot  the  anguish  in  Pompeii's  face, 
Beneath  her  half  drawn  winding-sheet  dis 
closed  ; 
Forgot  white  Lisbon's  doom,  nor  called  to 

mind — 

In  pleasant  Zancle  taking  noonday  ease — 
How,  from  its  ashes  by  the  western  seas 
A  stricken  Phoenix  rises,  stone  and  steel. 

Fresh  as  her  Poro  flowers  at  early  dawn, 
When  over  Hybla's  hills  the  yellow  bees 
83 


From  aromatic  blossoms  shake  the  dew; 
Fair  as  the  maiden  ere  by  dark  Fate  drawn, 
She  saw  the  wide  earth  yawn 
Before  the  thunderous  horses,  and  the  strong 
Arm  of  Aides  crushed  her  gathered  flowers; 
So  fresh,  so  fair,  amid  her  storied  seas, 
She  who  remains  through  changes  ason-long 
A  greater  Helen  wooed  with  sword  and  song, 
Of  mightier  victors  bride  and  battle  prize, 
Lay  lapped  in  peace,  when  swift  from  Hades 

driven, 
Upward  the  death-king  came ;  the  earth  was 

riven, 
And  through  the  darkness  rang  her  children's 

cries. 

Now  Scylla  unto  fierce  Charybdis  calls, 
While  on  the  water  spreads  a  crimson  stain; 
Now  Galatea  sobs  in  Ocean's  halls, 
And  vengeful  Polyphemus  laughs  again. 

The  Nereids  now  in  oozy  caverns  hide, 
84 


Where  sea-kings  of  the  old  ^Eolian  shore 
Watch  sunken  argosies  forevermore, 
While  dimly  from  the  far,  ensanguined  tide 
Patient  Odysseus  furrowed  once  of  yore, 
A  glint  of  daylight  through  the   darkness 

falls 
On  swaying  helmets,   tumbled  bronze  and 

gold. 
There  hide  they ;  but  the  sea-kings  keep  their 

state, 

Telling  of  ancient  dooms  and  deaths  of  old, 
Nor  know  they  how  beside  the  darkened 

strait 

And  up  the  slopes  of  olive,  vine  and  grain, 
The  dryads  wail  a  land  left  desolate. 

Wail  thou,  great  Muse,  the  dear  Sicilian 

land! 

Now  greater  grief  is  thine  than  when  of  old 
Young  Adon  in  the  Cyprian's  arms  lay  cold, 
And  Daphnis'  years  were  told. 
85 


Take  thou  the  lyre  from   Time's  enfeebled 

hand; 

Hushed  is  the  music  of  Empedocles, 
Of  splendid  Pindar,  pure  Simonides, 
Bion  and  Moschus  and  Theocritus, 
And  those  who  unto  us 
Nameless,  yet  live  as  human  memories. 
Hushed  is  the  last  of  all  that  laurelled  band, 
Hushed,  or  on  Charon's  strand 
Urging  in  vain  petition  dolorous, 
To  pass  where  Pan,  his  boyish  pipings  done, 
Stands  wistful,  while  the  nymphs,  by  fear 

made  bold, 

Cling  with  their  long  lithe  arms  about  his  knees. 
Wail  thou,  great  Muse,  or  loose  from  Acheron 
Some  worthy  bearer  of  the  singing  bough 
Whose  madness  whirls  me  now 
On  melting  wings  too  near  the  southern  sun. 

Yet  why,  for  aught  on  earth,  should  grief 
be  loud, 

86 


Since  all  that  is,  is  born  to  pass  away? 
Hero  and  maiden  to  the  urn  are  vowed, 
And  beauty  saves  not  when  the  debt  falls  due ; 
Apollo  with  the  darker  gods  has  died, 
And  Gaea  at  the  last  shall  be  as  they. 
O  Helen  of  the  soul !     O  golden  isle ! 
By  beauty  doomed,  by  beauty  sanctified, 
Thou  too  canst  not  abide, 
But  like  all  else  shalt  last  a  little  while — 
A  little  longer  than  the  falling  spray — 
Then  pass  as  planet  dust  or  gaseous  cloud, 
To  build  new  cosmos,  gnawed  by  new,  decay. 

Earth's  senseless  atoms  ever  clasp  and 

whirl, 

Unclasp  again  to  form  in  mazes  new ; 
And  ever  on  the  white  cliff  stands  some  girl 
With  dead  eyes  gazing  on  the  sailless  blue. 
Earth's  roses  die,  but  still  the  rose  lives  on, 
The  song  survives  the  swift  Leucadian  leap — 
A  dream  of  immortality  is  ours. 
87 


Where  golden  Daphnis  in  the  morning  shone, 

Fresh  sprung  from  Helicon, 

New  shepherds  singing  lead   their  careless 

sheep 

Above  the  graves  of  Athens,  Carthage,  Rome, 
Vandals  and  Moslems,  and  strange  Northern 

Powers 

That  filled  their  destined  hours, 
And  fed  in  turn  the  rich  Sicilian  loam, 
Building,  like  coral  insects  from  the  deep, 
Enchanted  islands  that  till  earth  is  gone, 
Swept  back  to  chaos  in  the  atom  swirl, 
Shall   be    the    seeker's    light,    the    spirit's 

home. 

Though   ^Etna  crumble  and   the  dark 

seas  rise 

Sowing  the  uplands  with  their  sterile  brine, 
Still  shall  the  soul  descry  with  wistful  eyes 
Sicilian  headlands  bright  with  flower  and 

fruit; 

88 


Still  shall  she  >^af,_tliou^-r'9ll^ealjth's  lips 

be  mute, 

Sicilian  music  in  the  morning  skies. 
Yea,  deep  within  the  heart  of  man  it  lies, 
This  visioned  island  bright  with  old  romance, 
A  race  inheritance 

Of  rest  and  joy  and  faith  in  things  divine, 
That  shall  endure  awhile  through  change  and 

chance, 
And    have    the    meaning    of    a     childhood 

shrine, 
Remembered    when  the  faith  of  childhood 

dies. 

Now  fails  the  song,  and  down  the  lonely 

ways 

The  last  low  echoes  die  upon  the  breeze. 
I  lay  my  lyre  upon  the  moveless  knees 
Of  her  who  by  the  hollow  roadway  stays, 
In  anguish  waiting  for  her  children  slain 

That  shall  not  come  again 
89 


With  springtime, •  leading  the  new  lambs  to 

graze. 
They  come  no  more;  but  while  o'er  hill  and 

plain 

The  twilight  darkens,  and  the  evening  rose 
Aloft  on  ;Etna  glows, 
Silent  she  sits  amid  the  sodden  leas, 
With  eyes  that  level  on  the  ocean  haze 
Their  unobserving  stare,  as  seaward  gaze 
The  eyes  of  stolid  caryatides. 


90 


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